Kentucky Coffee Trees

Planted from seed gathered from the mother tree in the park across the road. I think these two are a least 3 years old, and thriving.

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Kentucky Coffee trees are like honey locusts and avocados, among other flora, that need human people to survive, now that their natural partners, the mega fauna, are extinct. Despite the names, Coffee trees and Honey locusts don’t reciprocate with human food, but they do provide an abundance of shade and beauty.

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On a different note—plumbing— I received the following account from John. (Note: plumbing stories are almost always horror stories.)

“Well, I called O Bond plumbing yesterday after spending many hours sitting on a green 5 gal bucket in our tiny indoor shower stall trying to get a threaded collar to grab the threads and tighten. Of course he said he could not possibly arrive before Friday.

Today I spent another several hours trying to put it together—same story. We decided to go to Gore Bay for some supplies. While there, the plumber called and said he was in Kagawong on another job and finished early. He waited for us. I showed him the wayward shower, supplied all the parts and tools and he put the valve in and it screwed right in! He was in the cottage no more than 10 minutes. All fixed! I asked him how he did it—-his reply-“I’m licensed.”

The bill will arrive in the mail.

This Is Summer...

 ...in southeast Wisconsin. 

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Grass was getting almost knee high in the week since Manuel was last here.

Grass was getting almost knee high in the week since Manuel was last here.

Thunderstorms last night, with heavy downpours. Bright, clear sky this morning—then cumulus rising into cumulonimbus, then the anvil top, then bam, once again, heavy downpours and shaking thunder.

It’s hard to imagine anything more pleasant than sitting under an overhang, back against the wall, with a thunder storm raging around you. Unless you are Pax.

Garden Victory...

 ... galinsoga  vanquished, or so it would seem.

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The green manure cover crop, planted as soon as frost was out of the ground, had grown thickly to almost waist hight when it was laboriously mowed and the resulting mat trod into the soil. While it was growing (peas, oats, vetch), nothing could compete, was over grown and shaded out. After mowing, the heavy mulch acted as a landscape fabric.

At planting time I scratched shallow grooves through the mat to accept the seeds of beet and squash. Now, both crops are prospering. (The green stuff along the edges in the photo is creeping charlie, creeping in—but it will be easy to discourage.) Pickled beets could be on the horizon this fall.

On another note, a report from Pinebox indicates there has been an outbreak of the “friendly fly,” a fly that looks like a house fly, but much bigger. It’s friendly for two reasons—it doesn’t bite humans and it controls the obnoxious forest tent caterpillar, which denuded the forest last year. “In early summer it emerges from the ground and seeks out forest tent caterpillar cocoons, where it deposits live larvae which bore into the cocoons and feed on the pupating insects.” (Evolution in action) Last year’s caterpillars, followed by this year’s flies—and eventually the wild outbursts will subside, for about a decade.

Pax Is Back

A little confused perhaps, at first, but ultimately glad to be home.

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Longest separation ever, a full two weeks. Life has been good for him I do believe—varied travels, good company, lots of attention. Knowing him, I suspect that he has made an effort as well to contribute to the overall quality of life around him. He has a positive outlook and boundless enthusiasm.

In the days and hours prior to his return I felt increasing nervousness about our reunion, almost the kind of thing you might feel when going out on a first date. One worry has been that he will be disappointed in the rather tame and slow-moving agenda presently in effect here on the home front, no long walks, no fast bike runs, no swimming. But Pax also likes routine, and taking charge of his own territory.

Glad he’s back, and chi migwetch to everyone who befriended him the past two weeks.

Thank you Rhubarb

and (honeybees too) for giving of yourself in the creation of a tasty and nutritious rhubarb compote. Rhubarb, you and I seem to have been working together successfully for many years now.

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I seem to be taking the teachings of Braiding Sweetgrass, including the Original Instructions, to heart. It might have been the timing of my reading the book that makes it seem so relevant and powerful, or maybe is is really relevant and powerful. I’ve long been interested in Indigenous Wisdom, but now I think I somewhat understand it. I’ll be referencing it often, and putting copies of the book in circulation, as part of an attempt at reciprocity.

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No Dinghy Needed

For years, as we crossed the Mackinaw Bridge, my Dad would reassure us that if the bridge collapsed we’d be fine; after all we had Heliotrope’s red rubber dinghy strapped to the roof of our mini van.

Happy to report that today, as the Brian and Morgan contingency made their way home to Wisconsin, no dinghy was needed.

Straits of Mackinaw photo by Brian.

Straits of Mackinaw photo by Brian.

And here in Lac Du Flambeau, Pax enjoyed a day of sprints to the point followed by swims in To To Tom Lake.

Photo and guest blog by Abby.

Photo and guest blog by Abby.

Ready, Set…

Guest photos today, and a guest blogger tomorrow. Fine day here—ever changing sky, wind boxing the compass then fading with the sun.

Pax led Ab on several long walks (and swims) along the Petoskey waterfront. And now Morgan is here too to join the vacation fun.

Pax led Ab on several long walks (and swims) along the Petoskey waterfront. And now Morgan is here too to join the vacation fun.

Photo by Mary Ellen of first anemone up north

Photo by Mary Ellen of first anemone up north

Record Smashed

Fifty laps within one crew shift, or two and a quarter miles. Pax had a good day too

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Long walks and even a swim.

While I made no crochet progress I did get to almost understand the basics of cribbage.

Work in progress— —by Abby

Work in progress— —by Abby

Twenty-three Laps…

…around the CVU compound equals one mile, and the record number of laps completed in one day, so far, is 56.

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And crochet lessons have begun. While I’m not the most apt student, it’s fun seeing the room become a gathering place for all the many folks interested in this fiber art.

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Braiding Sweetgrass

A superlative book of indigenous wisdom, scientific knowledge, and the teachings of plants.

Petoskey stones gathered by Bri and Mimi from the shingle beach

Petoskey stones gathered by Bri and Mimi from the shingle beach

Here are two excerpts—first the traditional indigenous origin story, second the key points of the Honorable Harvest. Many fascinating chapters including: Maple Sugar Moon, The Three Sisters, Honorable Harvest, The Sound of Silverbells, Putting Down Roots, Witness to the Rain, Defeating Windigo.

Turtle Island

The aboriginal creation story

She fell like a maple seed, pirouetting on an autumn breeze. A column of light streamed from a hole in the Skyworld, marking her path where only darkness had been before. It took her a long time to fall. In fear, or maybe hope, she clutched a bundle tightly in her hand.

 Hurtling downward, she saw only-dark water below. But in that emptiness there were many eyes gazing up at the sudden shaft of light. They saw there a small object, a mere dust mote in the beam. As it grew closer, they could see that it was a woman, arms outstretched, long black hair billowing behind as she spiraled toward them.

 The geese nodded at one another and rose together from the water in a wave of goose music. She felt the beat of their wings as they flew beneath to break her fall. Far from the only home she'd ever known, she caught her breath at the warm embrace of soft feathers as they gently carried her downward.

 And so it began.

 The geese could not hold the woman above the water for much longer, so they called a council to decide what to do. Resting on their wings, she saw them all gather: loons, otters, swans, beavers, fish of all kinds. A great turtle floated in their midst and offered his back for her to rest upon. Gratefully she stepped from the goose wings onto the dome of his shell. The others understood that she needed land for her home and discussed how they might serve her need.  The deep divers among them had heard of mud at the bottom of the water and agreed among them to go find some.

Loon dove first, but the distance was too far and after a long while he surfaced with nothing to show for his efforts. One by one, the other animals offered to help—Otter, Beaver, Sturgeon—but the depth, the darkness, and the pressures were too great for even the strongest of swimmers. They returned gasping for air with their heads ringing. Some did not return at all. Soon only little Muskrat was left, the weakest diver of all. He volunteered to go while the others looked on doubtfully. His small legs flailed as he worked his way downward and he was gone a very long time.

 They waited and waited for him to return, fearing the worst for their relative, and, before long, a stream of bubbles rose with the small, limp body of the muskrat. He had given his life to aid this helpless human. But then the others noticed that his paw was tightly clenched and, when they opened it, there was a small handful of mud. Turtle said, "Here, put it on my back and I will hold it."

 Skywoman bent and spread the mud with her hands across the shell of the turtle. Moved by the extraordinary gifts of the animals, she sang in thanksgiving and then began to dance, her feet caressing the earth. The land grew and grew as she danced her thanks, from the dab of mud on Turtle's back until the whole earth was made. Not by Skywoman alone, but from the alchemy of all the animals' gifts coupled with her deep gratitude. Together they formed what we know today as Turtle Island, our home.

 Like any good guest, Skywoman had not come empty-handed. The bundle was still clutched in her hand. When she toppled from the hole in Skyworld she had reached out to grab onto the Tree of Life that grew there. In her grasp were branches—fruits and seeds of all kinds of plants. These she scattered onto the new ground, and carefully tended each one until the world turned from brown to green.

 Sunlight streamed through the hole from Skyworld, allowing the seeds to flourish. Wild grasses, flowers, trees, and medicines spread everywhere. And now that the animals, too, had plenty to eat, many came to live with her on Turtle Island.

Honorable Harvest

 • Know the ways of the ones who take care of you, so that you may take care of them.
• Introduce yourself.
• Be accountable as the one who comes asking for life.
• Ask permission before taking. Abide by the answer.
• Never take the first. Never take the last.
• Take only what you need.
• Take only that which is given.
• Never take more than half. Leave some for others.
• Harvest in a way that minimizes harm.
• Use it respectfully. Never waste What you have taken.
• Share.
• Give thanks for what you have been given.
• Give a gift, in reciprocity for what you have taken.
• Sustain the ones who sustain you and the earth will last forever.

A Room With A View

Sorry to have missed yesterday’s blog…due to circumstances beyond our control a slight deviation from the plan.

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Very nice place. Got a little something planned for Friday, but until then reading, relaxing, and chatting in beautiful Petoskey, Michigan.